There is a Balance
by crystalswolf
Summary: T'Mir is the daughter of T'Pol, Trip, and Koss. Here is her story. The last perspective in "The Understanding" *First half complete*
1. Child (pt1)

**A HUGE thanks to my glorious betas, Dinah and Honeybee. For the most part, this story has been a handful, but this section has been particularly overwhelming because of the sheer size and various nooks and crannies. Without them, I think I would have sat on this for another year biting my nails and arguing with myself endlessly on what should stay and what should go.**

**I'm trying to finish up my stories, and the first up is the first chapter of T'Mir's perspective from "The Understanding" as a separate story. Why? The size. There will be a picture associated with this perspective when its meaning comes into play, so watch out for that.  
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**Note: Loosely based on "The Good That Men Do" but does not follow the other books at all. In fact, I refuse to read them until this is done!  
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**Disclaimer: Of course, Star Trek characters do not belong to me.**

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**December 12, 2157**

Her mother held her steady as T'Mir wobbled on unsure legs. With some effort, she could stand, but it was walking that she couldn't quite figure out. One foot in front of the other was not as simple as the adults made it seem.

Still, her father urged her to move forward, and she resisted the instinct to drop to her knees and crawl. Lately, every time she did, they would pick her up and start this game all over again. It was made clear that anything other than walking was not acceptable.

She moved her left foot forward, and the balance she'd achieved was almost lost. Wobbly, she managed to swing her right foot forward to compensate and something clicked in her mind. The momentum helped balance her, but it was scary and easy to lose control.

Quickly, her left foot swung forward, then her right, then her left, and T'Mir realized that she was moving upright like the adults. It was fast and uncontrolled, unlike her parents, but she liked the feeling, and she was walking. The approving looks from her mother and father confirmed it.

She knew she would fall eventually, but her focus was on her father, whose hands were still outstretched and waiting.

Finally, she fell into him. His arms, and his love, surrounded her. She was safe, she was victorious, and she was loved.

"Well done, little one," her father said to her as he held her close, much longer than to simply keep her balanced, his warm cheek held to hers and the faintest feeling of contentment radiating from it. There was nothing more she wanted to do than to stay this way just a little bit longer before trying again.

**Feb 2, 2160**

The priest from the nearby temple continued to speak in one of the ancient Vulcan dialects, and T'Mir's mind wandered with the soothing rhythmic cadence; it was like a drumbeat of words. She wished she understood more than the occasional word here or phrase there. Unfortunately, she understood very little of the Ancient Vulcan from very old stories and Surak's teachings that were read to her.

Standing at either side of the priest was her father's cousin and his wife-to-be. Her father's cousin was an agreeable relative, unlike her father's parents. He did not stare down at her, head raised high and haughtily, when required by the strictest of etiquette to speak to her.

Voran was kind and patient, and T'Mir did not like the idea that he had to marry this woman, a stranger, or that he was forced to agree to some arrangement made so long ago when he was only a few years older than her.

During one of her walks with her father, just days before the wedding, she'd asked why Voran had to agree to such an arrangement.

Koss stopped in mid-stride, his body rigid, and he knelt down so that his eyes were nearer her level. "It is tradition, very important tradition."

"Why is it so important? I think it's unfair."

"It is unfair," Koss began. "It's unfair for both, but highly necessary. There are some things beyond our control, and arranging marriages, along with the reasons for it, are most definitely beyond our control."

"Did this happen to you and mother… and him?"

The answer he gave her was a single Vulcan phrase. Roughly translated, it meant "of sorts".

But it wasn't enough. She stared at him, determined that he give more information. In fact, she settled her feet in the sand and was willing to wait for as long as it took for him to provide it.

With a sigh, Koss continued. "Your mother and I were betrothed, but we and your father-" He stopped in mid-sentence then corrected himself, "your other father entered into this marriage of our own accord, without prearrangement."

T'Mir turned her head away, trying to focus on a cluster of stones along the path. "I don't like—" she began but hesitated as she searched for a more Vulcan way to express herself. "I prefer not to think of him."

Koss settled one knee into the sand for balance and a little comfort. "Why not, little one?"

How could she explain the emotions roiling within her? At a young age, Vulcans learned detailed descriptions of everything, except emotions. A tear welled in her eye, wrestled its way free and down her cheek, her young Vulcan resolve broken.

Without a word, Koss took her hand in his. It was a direct violation of personal space, but he was her father, and at the moment, she didn't care. She needed the reassurance his touch brought, the gentle, peaceful emotions that flowed from his hand to hers and radiated throughout her body. There was an undercurrent of something else, but it was minute, and T'Mir chose to ignore it.

"I see," he breathed, and she turned her head to see his eyes were closed. What did he see?

Her father's hand released hers, and she abruptly felt the calmness slip from her just as quickly. She wanted it back; she wanted her father's stability to make her feel strong again and had to resist the urge to retrieve his hand.

This was why Vulcans did not touch. The strongest emotions buried deeply were revealed with the slightest contact. It was why, when she was very young, her mother and father allowed her to curl on their laps as they brushed her hairline gently until she drifted quietly to sleep. How they would never allow her to touch them when they were agitated. This last year, however, it was no longer allowed. Her age was their only reason.

"You are angry…" he began, extending the last word, his brow furrowed as though he were struggling to identify the word for that emotion, "…fearful…confused…embarrassed."

His eyes snapped open, and he stared at her for a long moment. It was his turn to dig in his heels and wait for her response.

This was not only a rare time to speak openly about her emotions, but it had also become a memory exercise. She was expected to address each emotion in the order they were called.

T'Mir's brow furrowed deeply, and she thought about the word anger. What did it mean to her?

Images of a faceless Vulcan man traveling between the stars, encountering countless people from other worlds, pushed forward in her thoughts. Important work, in her mind, seemed more like the thrill of new discoveries and adventure.

"He left us. What is so important that he would leave us?"

The next was fear, but not her own. There was always a feeling of unease, of fear, just below the surface when she touched her mother and father, even this day. She did not understand it, but she knew it was connected to her other father.

She assumed it was for his safety, but it never seemed to fit what she'd sensed.

"There is something about him," she said as she kicked a pebble near her toe. Her sandal also kicked a little sand into the air. "It's something that makes you and Mother afraid. And Mother's eyes… when she speaks of him…" T'Mir's focus shifted from the ground to directly into her father's eyes. "They do not look the same when she speaks to you."

Embarrassment reminded her of some things said during her socialization activities, activities all very young Vulcan children must attend to meet and learn how to properly interact with others of their age.

"And why do you and Mother sleep in separate rooms? And none of the other children have two fathers. They say we are unusual, that we are different." And for Vulcans, there is very little more insulting than to be labeled unusual and different.

There was an extended silence before Koss breathed deeply. "What your other father does, the reason he is away, is extremely important for the safety of you and your mother."

It didn't go unnoticed how he did not include himself. If all three agreed to marry each other, was there no affection between all of them?

"Your other father had to leave, to make this universe a better place for you and your mother, and he would not have done so if he did not think you would not be safe and nurtured without him. His life is at risk every day for that cause." T'Mir shifted uncomfortably, guilt slowly replacing her anger. She did not realize trading various metals in the outer colonies was so important to anyone's safety.

"And the fear you sense, it is not fear of him, but fear of things larger than our family or even Vulcan. It is a fear that I believe, one day, you will understand." He then added, "When you are older."

T'Mir could feel her lower lip begin to protrude, but she stopped it, pulled it back in. Pouting was unacceptable at her age. But the words "when you are older" left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"As for the relationship between your mother, your other father, and me, our priority is you. All other matters are secondary," he sighed, then added, "and it is for us, as adults, to decide how best to coexist to achieve our goal."

He did not directly address her confusion, and although his last statement had the same meaning, it was not the actual words "you will understand 'when you are older'." She was thankful for that.

Koss focused on her, his eyes so intense that T'Mir had to resist looking away from him. "They call us unusual and different. I believe differences can be an asset if they help you expand your mind. The arrangement between your three parents is a personal matter, and we have learned to expand our family. I find that to be an extraordinary experience. Do you not believe this?"

T'Mir agreed. Although she'd never met her other father, she now knew that wherever he was, there was affection for her. Unlike her peers, T'Mir had two fathers that protected her, near and far. She had two fathers who cared for her… loved her.

Her mind drifted back to her cousin's arranged marriage which she now compared to the unusual and different marriage of her parents. She felt the love of her family all around her, even if it was not what was expected in Vulcan society. And in that moment, T'Mir decided that tradition may have its usefulness, but for her, unusual and different had its place as well.

Why couldn't Voran choose a different kind of marriage?

It was then that T'Mir noticed a bead of sweat form over Voran's brow and wondered why he was sweating when she wasn't. It was an unusually cool day for the lowlands, and she was typically the first one to sweat among other Vulcans.

Voran's hand trembled as he lifted two fingers up to meet his bride's two fingers. T'Mir had seen couples do this before, a rare act between her parents.

It suddenly occurred to T'Mir that perhaps traditional was Voran's path. Not everyone was suited for being unusual and different.

T'Mir stood straighter, her head held higher while glancing in the direction of her father's parents. In her mind, they represented rigid Vulcan expectations. Perhaps Voran would find comfort in it, but in her mind, unusual and different now had three champions.


	2. Child (pt2)

**Just to let everyone know, I had to change the date of the last entry in the 1st chapter to line up with everything else. Also, these chapters don't have the structure of actual chapters, so you may get to the end of each and feel they are incomplete. Unfortunately, the sections are too small for individual chapters, and what I have to post is too large for a single chapter.**

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**Aug 18, 2160**

One foot in front of the other. Every year her family came to Earth, every year they would visit a human family in the territory called Mississippi, in the North American continent. And every year, she would feel a thrill and apprehension in anticipation of the visit.

Each year, they would invite every member of their extended family to visit, calling it a reunion. Although they insisted it was for the benefit of their entire family, there were times when T'Mir had the distinct feeling that everyone gathered just to see her. That was highly unlikely since she was not even a true member of their family, but was embraced as a grandchild of the older couple, nonetheless. They insisted T'Mir call them "Meemaw" and "Pawpaw".

The family always welcomed her with open arms, literally. The woman—T'Mir's mother begrudgingly called Gracie—wrapped cool, human arms tightly around T'Mir while the woman's mate, Charlie, insisted on picking her up high above him. Not that T'Mir disliked their very human behavior, it was a much needed respite from the rigid expectations of her people on Vulcan. Secretly, the frequent touching and the tumultuous emotions that accompanied them quelled a secret need for contact she could never admit openly.

They were the parents of a fallen colleague her mother once worked with closely, years ago on the human ship. T'Mir guessed their friendship must have been significant, at least as significant as her relationships with Uncle Jon and Dr. Phlox because she visited them annually as well. In fact, one or both of them would accompany her family to the Tucker reunion.

Loud voices could be heard from the backyard, even beyond the privacy fence. In the front, two people sat on the porch rocking in the white rocking chairs while another couple gently swung on a bench suspended from the porch roof. On the stairs sat a girl with golden waves down her back and large, blue eyes that widened even more at the sight of T'Mir and her family.

The girl rushed into the house, and in moments she returned with "Meemaw" and "Pawpaw" close behind her. The couple greeted them at the bottom of the stairs, and Uncle Jon wrapped his arms around Meemaw, then shook Pawpaw's hand. "Charlie! It's good to see you."

T'Mir looked up at the person standing next to her and holding her hand, and was rewarded with an unnaturally wide smile, unnatural for most humanoids. Dr. Phlox was always ready to give her one of his unusual smiles that stretched far beyond the normal range of other faces.

"T'Mir," Meemaw squealed as her arms wrapped tightly around T'Mir, snatching her away from Dr. Phlox. She only separated long enough to allow her husband his turn to hug her. "Now, let us get a look at you."

Although her parents allowed her some human behavior while on Earth, T'Mir glanced in her mother's direction to be certain. It was her mother that pressed her emotional control most. A slight nod, the barest hint of movement, was enough.

T'Mir twirled around in her spot hoping that she could control the flourish she desperately wanted to show.

"Just as I thought." Meemaw clapped her hands with delight as she looked up at her husband. "She grows faster than the weeds in my garden."

At first, when Meemaw offered her hand to walk up the steps together, T'Mir thought to refuse. Deliberate contact with bare skin was a breach of etiquette, but her mother allowed her such intimacy with these humans. The moment their hands touched, emotions fluttered in her mind. Love, excitement, and strangely tucked away in a mental corner was a longing for something… or someone.

This was why Vulcans avoided touch. The natural, instinctual ability to connect telepathically through touch was very invasive and intimate and disconcerting. All of which could undermine one's emotional control easily. But with Meemaw, it was not such an uncomfortable experience. There were no secret emotions roiling behind those gleeful eyes. The human woman's emotions were always displayed openly, and there was no shock when they floated into T'Mir's mind.

"I found a recipe for plomeek soup. I have to say, getting our hands on those plomeeks weren't easy. We had to have a crate shipped all the way from the only intergalactic supermarket on Earth, in San Francisco."

T'Mir glanced in her parents' direction and watched as her mother's eyebrow shot up. She wasn't sure if it was the news that a human woman tried to make plomeek soup, or that this very human woman used the incorrect plural form of the word for the vegetable.

"I think it's not bad at all. I threw in a bit of cabbage and it's very tasty." T'Mir cringed as her mother's back straightened, almost rigid. To save the moment, her father quickly responded, "The gesture is appreciated. Thank you."

It was enough to appease Meemaw, aided by the fact that the Earth woman had more exposure to Vulcans than the average human on Earth.

"Ellie," Meemaw called to the girl T'Mir had first seen. She was curled between the two people in the bench-swing. "Come here and meet your cousin."

With a quick, "Yes, ma'am," Ellie hopped off of the bench-swing and sprinted to their side.

"T'Mir, this is your cousin, Ellie. Ellie, this is the cousin I told you about, T'Mir." The girl was approximately T'Mir's age, thin and fidgety. She hadn't been able to stand still during their quick introduction.

"And those are her parents, Lindsey and Taylor." The couple waved at her, smiling warmly as they continued to relax on the bench.

Ellie, however, was not as relaxed. Without warning—the Tuckers rarely gave warning—Ellie grabbed T'Mir's hand and a storm of volatile emotions bombarded T'Mir's mind. It would have assaulted her senses if it weren't for the fact that she had similar emotions hidden away. The girl began her flood of words that would not stop until they were both unconscious late in the night and ready to part ways.

"I'm so glad you're here! And I'm so glad to finally have a girl cousin to play with. In New York, all of the cousins our age are boys, and the girls are all older. I was worried I would be lonely when we finally made it to one of these reunions. All the others are old, and I don't think they like to play very much. Our cousin Owen brought a friend. Do you want to hide in the trees and throw grapes at them?" Before T'Mir could answer, she felt the tug of her cousin pulling her through the house.

Outside, they passed by a picnic table filled with the food T'Mir had come to expect at these gatherings. Ellie grabbed a chicken leg and clenched it between her teeth, grabbed another, and handed it to T'Mir. T'Mir recoiled in response.

"Oh, I forgot," Ellie tried to say through her chicken leg and teeth and turned to return the offered leg to the table. If this were Vulcan, T'Mir would have allowed her to do so, but somehow on Earth, she felt that it was acceptable to touch her food, to consume meat. This world spoke to her, just as Vulcan did, but what it said was something completely different.

T'Mir took the fried chicken leg, held it to her mouth and took a bite. Ellie's eyes widened and her jaw dropped slightly, then relaxed into a placid expression of acceptance.

Ellie grabbed a bunch of grapes, grabbed T'Mir's hand and resumed their break-neck speed through the yard.

T'Mir soon found herself climbing a tree. She, at first, watched Ellie pull herself from branch to branch and marveled at how easy she made it seem, marveling even more when it was her turn to climb the old oak with great difficulty.

Below them was a bench in the center of a flower garden and on the bench sat their older cousin and his friend.

Settling into the crook of a branch and trunk, Ellie pulled out a bag and hung it on a thinner offshoot of the branch. Once comfortable, she began to gnaw at her drumstick.

"Everyone calls me Ellie, but my name's Elizabeth," she somehow managed to say between chews. "They say I'm named after someone in the family."

The name was familiar to T'Mir. Meemaw and Pawpaw had mentioned their daughter died during the Xindi attack on Earth. She'd also seen it written phonetically in a Vulcan tomb where her mother's mother was interred, and once in a while, her parents would mention the name with soft, reverent voices.

"I am also named after a deceased relative."

At first, Ellie didn't seem to understand T'Mir's words, but finally she nodded in comprehension. "Deceased relative…dead family," she mumbled to herself, then held the chicken leg up to make sure it was stripped of flesh and quickly tossed it in the bag hanging from the branch. T'Mir did the same.

Freed of their chicken, Ellie took the bunch of grapes and pulled one globe from its cluster. A smile stretched across her face, one to make Dr. Phlox proud, just before she tossed it in the direction of the bench. The people below looked around, and went back to quietly talking amongst themselves.

Ellie held up one more globe, but this time offered it to T'Mir.

This was unacceptable behavior. The act had no logic, no reason, and T'Mir felt a tingle throughout her body at the thought. She took the fruit, took aim, and threw the juicy globe down to the bench below. This time, Ellie and T'Mir didn't stop, several grapes at a time rained down on the couple below. The bench and surrounding area of the garden was covered in what looked like tiny, deflated balloons and sticky pulp.

"Ellie! T'Mir!"

T'Mir recognized the voice but had never heard it so full of the emotion… anger. Meemaw stood below, at the opposite side of the tree from the bench. Her hands were on her hips, her face flushed, and not from the heat of the day. T'Mir slid from one branch to another very carefully—she was not as accustomed to this kind of climbing as Ellie—until her feet were solidly on the ground. She stood in front of Meemaw, and Ellie joined her within moments.

"You two are the sweetest girls, but not at the moment, I have to say. Both of you will march into the house, grab the cleaning supplies, and clean this mess up. Do you hear me?"

Ellie nodded and answered, "Yes, ma'am." T'Mir no longer felt the thrill throughout her body. Instead, it was the weight of her Vulcan upbringing. This was more than unacceptable behavior, this was human behavior.

She answered simply, "Yes."

To pass the time as they cleaned, Ellie asked questions about Vulcans. Many questions. Are all Vulcans vegetarians? Are they also vegan? Why can't you touch food? What's telepathy? Can you tell me what I'm thinking right now? Why are Vulcans always so calm? You really don't have any emotions? What's Vulcan like?

In Ellie's neighborhood, there lived a Vulcan family. Their son was in her class, and Ellie never felt comfortable asking him questions, but it seemed she was at ease with T'Mir, because the questions seemed to pour out, one after another.

T'Mir didn't mind answering them. She found Ellie's passion to learn about another species to be an endearing quality.

**November 19, 2161**

Her mother stood at the entrance of her school, her hands behind her back, her eyes steady, and T'Mir could barely keep herself from breaking into a sprint towards her.

Days ago, her parents called her into the central area of the house, the living room as it was called on Earth, and sat her down to have a "family talk". The first and last time they'd had a family talk T'Mir was given the life-changing news of her true parentage, her Earth heritage. So when she sat on the sofa, three pairs of eyes on her, T'Mir wondered how her world would change this time.

The news they gave her was just as life altering, and she welcomed it wholly. "You mean I may have a little sister or brother?" she asked as she tried to remove the smile she knew displayed shamelessly on her face at the moment. It seemed unwilling to leave her face no matter how she tried to control it, so T'Mir eventually decided to give up. She was with her parents, after all. If they disapproved, she was too happy to care.

Although she embraced the news, there was tension in the room that made her very uncomfortable. With eyes trained to absorb minute details around her, Vulcan attention to detail, she noticed the difference in her father. He was not agitated as he'd been recently. Her mother's shoulders were tense, eyes focused on the opposite wall while her dad's head hung low, and his eyes would not stay focused on one thing for very long.

"Full or half sibling?" T'Mir asked, and the question pulled all three from whatever thoughts preoccupied them to focus on her.

"Half sibling," her mother replied.

"Does that displease you?" her father asked her. She couldn't understand why it would.

"I'm quite pleased," she said with more enthusiasm than she'd intended. In fact, she believed the more appropriate word would have been "happy". She'd already shunned her Vulcan upbringing with her unabashed smiling; she didn't want to push it further by verbally acknowledging the emotion she displayed.

It was fair. Her dad had a child, and now her father would as well, and T'Mir would have a little brother or sister to lavish affection—secretly, of course—and bestow her almost seven years of wisdom.

And perhaps, with the changes in her family, her father would join her mother and dad in their bedroom. T'Mir always wondered why her father slept in a different bedroom. Why her father and mother didn't share affection like her dad and mother. Why her father and dad did not share affection like her uncle and his husband.

With each step toward her mother, however, T'Mir sensed that this was not the case. There would be no little brother or sister. There would be no affection she expected her parents to display equally, no little one to share emotions—secretly, of course—and no one to share her years of wisdom. What surprised T'Mir was that she was not sad; she was angry, and it took every bit of her control not to stomp out of her school with her lip pouted and her arms crossed as her mother confirmed it with a slight shake of her head.


	3. Child (pt3)

**2165**

Little Sarek balled his fists and with small, jerking movement, waved them around, his legs kicking in much the same manner.

T'Mir smiled down at the infant in the cradle. He was beautiful, just as she'd imagined her sibling would have been, if she had one. The fact that her mother hadn't become pregnant four years ago still chafed, but for the moment, watching this baby obliviously do what babies do was enough to soothe that disappointment.

His black hair spiked out in tufts and his eyes wandered in all directions, occasionally focusing in her direction before moving on to the next object.

As her parents spoke with T'Pau and Skon, she knelt beside the cradle and lightly ran her finger over his hairline. For only a second, her skin touched his, and she felt his wonder at everything he could manage to focus into clarity, her face among them. T'Mir couldn't help but smile as he focused.

She'd forgotten that touching an infant was a privilege for only the immediate family, and T'Mir immediately withdrew her finger as she relaxed her facial muscles into a neutral expression.

"Are you certain the two captives are Romulan?" her mother asked T'Pau.

"Quite. In fact, the exile, Setla, has confirmed their identities." T'Pau took a moment to sip her tea before continuing. "Two Romulan operatives. One is known to work closely with the Klingons."

Her dad leaned against the wall with one leg crossed casually. "Why would a Romulan with Klingon connections be here, on Vulcan?"

"It is unknown. The Klingons have not shown any interest in the Federation. As of late, any communication with them initiated by the Federation has been met with hostility. Only time will reveal whether the Romulan affiliation with Klingons will affect the Federation."

T'Mir had never seen a Klingon, but the images of the fearsome brutes in her instructional PADDs caused a cold chill to spread down her spine. The need for comfort overwhelmed her, and she stood, walked to her father, and rested her head on his shoulder. There was only the barest contact of skin between her forehead and his cheek, but it was enough to feel the love and comfort flow from him as she continued to listen to the adults move on to a more casual conversation.

**Apr 2, 2168**

T'Mir sat quietly with her mother at the cafe frequented by many off-worlders. They did not do this often, but it wasn't unusual when her mother felt they did not spend enough time during their day-to-day lives together that a day was reserved for a peaceful outing of mother and daughter.

"Considering your reaction in the past, it was decided that we would not tell you until it was confirmed," her mother began before sipping her tea. T'Mir's curiosity piqued, she waited, inwardly impatient for her mother to take her long drink.

"I am pregnant."

Her reaction was beyond her control. T'Mir couldn't help but squeal, and when heads turned in her direction, particularly Vulcan heads, she became acutely aware of her impropriety. To give some excuse for her outburst, as flimsy as it was, T'Mir began to cough as though she'd choked on her water.

"A sister or a brother?" T'Mir could barely contain her emotions. She wanted to rush to her mother's side of the table and press her hand to her mother's stomach in the hopes of starting their sibling connection early.

"A boy," her mother answered before taking another sip of tea.

Calculating quickly, it had been roughly seven years since the last time, when she was disappointed. She remembered weeks ago her father had been distant and agitated. In the last week, her parents spoke in whispers and behind closed doors. Suddenly all actions were explained fully.

"Father's?"

Her mother nodded, and T'Mir couldn't restrain her smile. Her Vulcan facade ignored completely until her mother lifted a brow in expectation, causing T'Mir's outward Vulcan impassivity to return instantly.

"A little brother." She smiled inwardly. "Pon farr is a wondrous thing…" …especially if it could bring her mother and father together, even if only every seven years, she continued the thought to herself.

"Indeed," her mother agreed, but T'Mir sensed something else, something hidden in her mother's response. "It is fortunate that you approve of such circumstances. It is time we discuss your betrothal."

Over a year ago, T'Mir had a very uncomfortable conversation with her mother, what her dad called the human birds and Vulcan bees. Kahs-wan, betrothal, pon-farr, sex. She was relieved when the subject was not discussed again… until now.

"When we return to Vulcan at the end of the year, the process of your betrothal will begin shortly after your completion of your kahs-wan," her mother informed her.

"And who am I going to be tied to?" T'Mir sighed softly. She felt the weight of the news hanging from her neck, and her shoulders slumped.

"Zarel," Her mother said his name, but it barely registered other than the fact that he did indeed have a name. A name transitioned her situation from a mere possibility to reality far too quickly for T'Mir's preference.

Then her mother said another word, an ancient Vulcan word. Since very young, T'Mir had always struggled with the ancient dialects, with their complex vowels and consonants mashed together into almost indistinguishable sounds, but this word she'd recognized quickly. "Tlyamnhat."

Long ago, she'd heard the story of the Tlyamnhat as a small child. Like Earth children, T'Mir was told stories to lull her to sleep, but unlike her human peers, the stories were not fairytales and fables. They were actual events in Vulcan history.

_"In the age just before our destruction, there were five kingdoms ruled by five families. Fueled by their Vulcan emotions with little logic to speak of, they initiated wars frequently and with little provocation. One man rose to speak out against them, championing a different way to live, a different way to govern._

_"The royal families gave little thought to this man and his unusual philosophy, until unrest began to spread throughout the five kingdoms. The Vulcan people were listening to him; many began to embrace logic, but this was not acceptable for those in power._

_"The wars ceased and the five kingdoms were finally united in one goal: to kill this man name Surak._

_"And they did. Under the banner of the lowlands raptor, their combined forces attacked Surak and his followers."_

_"They killed him," T'Mir interrupted her father with a pout as she snuggled into her blankets. She'd been told this story several times before, but each time was just as thrilling as the first._

_"That is correct, little one. The five kingdoms succeeded in their assassination of Surak, but with great cost._

_"With his death, the peaceful protests turned violent. Many factions that continued to support the monarchies chose to side with the remaining followers of Surak, those not killed in the attack. Each member of the royal families was hunted and executed. From distant cousins to the kings and queens, the five monarchies were no more."_

_"Except Miral!" T'Mir exclaimed with a small squeak in her voice. In the story, this part was her favorite._

_"Indeed," Koss said as he nodded his agreement. "Miral was the last surviving princess. She was the first daughter of the eastern-most king, thought to have been killed by a mob years prior. She was found in a small province on the eastern coast of Na'nam, and married to—"_

_"One of Surak's sons!"_

_Her father nodded, then continued, "Upon this discovery—"_

_"They let her live!" T'Mir interrupted again. This time, her father expressed his irritation with her interruptions with one look._

_"Miral did live. Surak's lessons of control through logic had become the primary philosophy in most territories on Vulcan, and after so many years of war, so much bloodshed, and the thirst for the deaths sated, the newly formed government council decreed that not only would Miral live, but her child with Surak's first born son would be the symbol of Vulcan's past and future, what we were before Surak and after his death._

_"To preserve that lineage, the first born, the __Tlyamnhat, is betrothed to a distant cousin. The cousins are chosen by the High Priest and Priestess of Mount Seleya."_

Suddenly, T'Mir felt a cold chill along her spine and a single thought came to mind, a name to go with the word, Tlyamnhat.

"Zarel?"

Her mother nodded. Zarel was the current Tlyamnhat. Suddenly, it occurred to her why her father's parents were so angry with him that T'Mir was not his child.

T'Mir was the first child of her mother, and evidently, her mother was a distant cousin in this family line. It was widely known that most wealthy, prominent Vulcan families could trace their lineage to Surak, but she'd never given much thought as to how those families connected with the story of the Tlyamnhat. Revered and respected as a living piece of history, preserved for eighteen centuries, and she was expected to marry it… him.

It was a struggle, but T'Mir had to remember to breathe.

**Oct 11, 2168**

The first sun had set when T'Mir completed her third lap around the temple garden on Mt. Seleya. Inside one of the stone shelters, all three of her parents, the former Minister of Vulcan's interim government, as well as other Vulcan dignitaries were gathered inside the temple to discuss her fate. Her fate, arranged long before her birth, sealed by her gender and family, was becoming reality with every moment that passed.

She had endured her kahs-wan, and now was her next step toward Vulcan adulthood.

A stalk with a cluster of small, blue flowers caught her eye, and she stopped to feel it at her fingertips, smell the scent of its leaves in the remaining heat of the day.

She knew this plant well; it grew in the gardens around their Vulcan and Earth homes. And now it was even being grown in the most sacred of places on Vulcan. On Vulcan, it was called Kherma, also known on Earth as common sage. Her hand closed around a bunch of the flower stalks and drew them close to her nose. She relaxed a bit with its comforting familiarity.

As she inhaled the light perfume scent, much lighter than the plant's leaves, she heard the soft footsteps on the stone path behind the large, decorative boulder nearby. "Who's there?"

Sarek stepped out from behind the boulder and stood silently staring back at her. His eyes, however, darted in all directions except hers. Vulcans this young always had trouble hiding guilt.

"How long have you been there?"

"I followed you," he replied, his eyes continued to avoid her.

T'Mir dropped her arms, her sleeves covered her hands heated by the last sun of the day, and approached him. Her mother had told her often that T'Pau was still regarded highly, even after she stepped down as Minister of the newly reformed Vulcan government. Her presence during the betrothal negotiations was no surprise to T'Mir.

However, after glimpsing the scroll of the Tlyamnhat's large family tree, she knew why T'Pau had a vested interest in this marriage. According to the order of selection, a marriage between T'Mir's grandchild and Sarek's grandchild, depending on their gender compatibility, would be arranged.

"Will you meet him, today?" Sarek asked as he kicked a pebble in front of him with his toe.

It was her turn to avoid his gaze. It was a question not unlike the many she'd asked herself several times in the previous days. She knew she'd meet her future husband today, but what would he think of her? What would she think of him? What would a Vulcan of such high status think of marrying someone like her… if he were to ever find out?

On a nearby bench, they sat together, Sarek edged a little closer than Vulcan etiquette allowed.

No answer was necessary. Sarek gently swung his legs as they could not reach the ground while sitting on the bench. "Mother says meeting him is necessary."

"She is correct, a connection must be established," T'Mir replied, and it sounded much like her own mother's tone and words. It was a very sobering revelation.

He continued to gently swing his legs as he stared at his hands in his lap. "If he doesn't want to, I will…marry you."

T'Mir couldn't help it. The corners of her mouth tilted upward for an instant before she willed herself into neutrality. He was a sweet, very sensitive boy, and she often wondered how he would manage to conceal such traits as an adult.

At the entrance of the garden, T'Mir's mother appeared, flanked by both her fathers, all in Vulcan robes. Her dad's expression was much like it had been from the moment their transport reservation to Vulcan had been finalized. Her three parents had argued about this for weeks.

_"She's only twelve years old, and I don't want her promised to some boy we don't even know. And the fact that he's a prince doesn't change anything!" her father raged at his two mates._

_Sitting on the stairs and out of sight, T'Mir drew her knees close to her body and wrapped her arms around them tightly._

_"He's not a prince, he's the—" her mother started but her dad interrupted before she could say the word._

_"I know, the lamb-no-hat! I don't care how you Vulcans want to sugar-coat it. My daughter's not going to be forced to marry that prince!"_

_After a very audible sigh from her mother, T'Mir heard nothing more from the living room. It was apparent that they chose to continue their very loud—in her dad's case—conversation through their telepathic link._

In the end, it was agreed that the betrothal would be arranged and the connection would be established, but T'Mir would have to make the choice in her adulthood, whether to accept or decline her betrothal.

In the garden, T'Pol stood strong and proud with the subtle protrusion of T'Mir's baby brother from her loose robes. T'Pol was a vision of Vulcan womanhood and Vulcan motherhood. T'Mir wondered if either would be her future.

"It is time, daughter," her mother beckoned her. "And you come as well, Sarek."

Would she have to stay on Vulcan, never to see her other home-world again? Would she even have time for a career, to strike out in the universe on her own? Was she to find happiness as a Vulcan woman or a human woman? T'Mir wondered how she would fit into Vulcan society as she walked with her back straightened and her head held high into the beginning of her future, whatever it might be.


	4. Child (pt4)

**Had to change dates around again. Sorry about that. Also, you should see a bright, shiny new picture to go with the story. It was just a doodle that I created to keep track of how characters were related and figured why not share? **** I hope it was the right decision. ****The full picture will be available when the story is complete if there's actually anyone curious to see it. Last thing: this chapter is larger than I would have liked it to be, but I could not break up the last (lengthy) entry. I hope the content makes up for the length.  
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**2169**

T'Mir stood by the wall near the door of the room, her back pressed against it tightly. As daughter and first born, she should have been with the rest of her family, but she couldn't. The sounds from her mother were too much, too frightening, and her emotional control was a poor match against that power of that emotion.

Instead, she watched as her dad stood by her mother's right side and her father by her left, both holding her hands. The birthing chaise tilted slightly upright, Dad kissed her mother's forehead and whispered something in her ear. That quieted her for a few moments before she cried out again, and Dr. Phlox urged her to push.

The sound of her mother at this moment made T'Mir want to hide her face in her hands and leave. She could not find the courage to stand with them, but she would not fail them further by leaving the room.

Irrational as it was, T'Mir feared she would witness her mother's death if she moved closer. A very irrational fear as this was normal, natural. It was far more natural than the circumstances of her own birth.

After the deepest exhale she'd ever heard from a living creature, the next sounds T'Mir heard were of her baby brother. The crying called to her; her mother and fathers forgotten, Dr. Phlox forgotten. She moved to the sound, to the strong voice that demanded she come to him and love him.

By Dr. Phlox's side, she watched as the Denobulan man cleared her brother's nose and mouth and cleaned his body. She followed him as he placed the baby on her mother's chest, and moved her face close to him and watched her baby brother struggle to open his eyes for the first time.

Char'Les was his name. Char in honor of her father's maternal forefather. Les in honor of her mother's mother, but Father admitted that the full name was quite fitting. In honor of a man sacrificed for their family. Until that moment, T'Mir had never considered how much her dad had given up to protect their worlds, to protect their family.

T'Mir caressed the hairline of rich, dark brown, spiky and unruly hair, and the moments when they touched, she made sure to focus her thoughts into one concept, "I love you, little brother."

**2171.**

Walks had always been something for her and her father alone, but she had to admit that she enjoyed their new routine. Her entire family walked the trail on Vulcan, her parents ahead and talking amongst themselves. Something changed between them, a newfound ease between her dad and father, an attempt to include him in whatever existed between her mother and dad.

T'Mir held her little brother's hand and kept the slow pace his little toddling legs could manage. When he lagged behind too far or showed other signs of tiring, she scooped him in her arms and nuzzled him. She knew he preferred their walks in the wooded parks on Earth to the dry, sandy, pebble covered trails on Vulcan during their visits, but through their touch, she also knew he just enjoyed their time together, on any planet.

They'd almost reached the point in their walk to turn back in the direction of home when she heard and felt the boom in the sky that startled Char'Les in her arms. Her little brother began to cry, burying his face in her shoulder.

Her parents stared up at the sky, and for a long moment there was nothing. Then something streaked across, then another, and the booming noises followed closely behind them. The trajectory of one of the streaks would land somewhere near them. Her baby brother's cries grew into a shrieking tantrum in response to the noises.

"T'Mir!" her dad yelled her name and gestured for her to move closer. She caught up with them, and her mother pulled her little brother from her arms and gripped her hand, the fear in her mother blasted her senses in that instant. She felt her mother pulling her and could barely keep her the pace as they made their way further down the trail. When they'd reached the bend in the trail, T'Mir remembered that there was a cave used as a shelter from severe sandstorms not far from them; her father had shown her its location years ago.

Minutes passed before they heard the first shot: a high pitched, whizzing sound just to her right. "T'Pol, go ahead!" her dad yelled as he and her father slowed behind them. T'Mir wanted to turn back to see them, to assure herself that they were close behind, but her mother's pull was insistent, and she couldn't slow down long enough to turn her head for even a moment.

The entrance was so close, T'Mir could read the carvings marking it as a designated shelter with the last inspection date listed on a small placard below them.

Having placed Char'Les back on the ground, her mother used both hands and all of her strength to pull at the heavy door deep inside the mouth of the cave. T'Mir used the time to turn and see where her fathers were. Back from where they'd come, her father and dad stood together with weapons—T'Mir was unaware that they'd possessed—drawn and waiting. Had they known an attack was possible?

The hulking creatures she'd only seen on the screens of PADDs appeared from the hills and her fathers worked in unison. They were unbeatable, and T'Mir felt a swell of pride. Vulcan and human working as one so perfectly.

Her mother tugged at her robes to pull her attention back to their immediate task to open the heavy door.

A cold chill jolted down her spine as she heard the small voice call, "dada," and the voice was not at her side. Both T'Mir and her mother stopped what they were doing and turned to see her little brother rushing in the direction of their fathers.

She heard her mother's voice call for him, higher pitched and cracking in fear and panic, then watched as her mother sprinted after him. T'Mir froze in fear as she watched her fathers, her mother, and her little brother so close to the Klingons. Would she lose her entire family? The fear transformed to anger, and T'Mir raced to catch up with her mother.

The distraction was enough for one of the Klingons to hit her dad with a single shot. He dropped down, and for a long moment there was no movement. Char'Les was at his side, shaking his arm to wake him when their mother lifted him in her arms and handed him to T'Mir.

T'Pol pulled her dad a few feet before lifting him over her shoulder. Had she been a human woman, her mother would never have been able to do such a thing.

"Koss," her mother called to her father while moving back in the direction of the cave. T'Mir chanced a look back to see her father slowly following behind, his eyes scanning for anything nearby.

When they were secure in the cave, her mother and father had closed the door, her mother checked her dad's pulse and inventoried all wounds. The single wound she found was cauterized by the blast, and there was nothing more they could do in the cave, but the relieved exhale was enough of a sign from her mother that her dad was in no immediate danger.

Strangely, her father called for her mother to join her fingers to his. They shared a moment, a private discussion perhaps, and the instant they broke the connection, her father shot her mother with the stun setting.

Char'Les wrapped his little arms around T'Mir tighter and buried his face in the crook of her arm as she cradled him. T'Mir couldn't think to do anything more than stare at her mother's collapsed form, then her father.

He walked to her, held her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. Through his touch, she felt his love, that feeling that always made her feel safe and calm. That feeling that grounded her in family and love behind the harsh mask of Vulcan life.

He coaxed Char'Les from his hiding position and held him the same way, exchanging something between them before doing something that unnerved her more than the Klingon attack, more than watching her dad fall to one of them. Her father smiled, fully, unabashedly before standing and leaving the shelter.

With some effort, he closed the door behind him, but just before it sealed, T'Mir heard sounds of heavy footfalls and guttural voices. Beyond the door, she could hear the muffled whine of a phaser, the loud rumble of fallen stones and rocks, and then silence. Painful, lonely silence. T'Mir was the only one conscious with her baby brother and she wanted to set him down, open the door, and claw through stones to chase her father and beg him to return, to stay safe with them.

She wanted to hold him one more time, but couldn't leave her mother or dad. Most of all, she couldn't leave her baby brother. Char'Les wailed in her arms, and she wanted to cry with him, but she had to remain strong for him. With what was left of her mental strength, T'Mir calmed herself and held her brother close, wrapping her body around him with love and calm thoughts flowing from her to him.

Unsure if they would survive this, T'Mir was determined that if they were to die, her little brother would die surrounded by love.

**Apr 7, 2172**

T'Mir's arms wrapped tightly around the bowl as her knees tucked underneath it for some semblance of stability. She'd hoped that the object could stop the world from spinning, or at least anchor her for a time. Everything spun around her, and her stomach seized… again. This was the other reason why she held on to the cold, hard porcelain.

Someone patted her back reassuringly, and she knew it was her dad; her mother would never have given an ounce of sympathy under the circumstances.

"It's okay, grease monkey. As soon as you empty your stomach, the world will stop spinning."

She was no stranger to alcoholic beverages, at least for the last year, but she'd never had so much at once. It was a lesson learned and learned well as her stomach seized again and expelled an unbelievable amount of liquid. Had it been that much? There was no holding back her moan of relief as she collapsed beside the bowl and looked up to see her dad. Offered to her was a towel in one hand and a toothbrush, her toothbrush, in the other.

"I took Ellie back to her dorm," he said as he handed her the towel. Without a word, T'Mir took it and wiped her mouth. With some difficulty, she then lifted herself off of the floor. It wasn't easy; most of her strength was left in the bowl to her side.

"She's in slightly better shape than you. She could walk." He then handed her the toothbrush. As she brushed her teeth, her dad left the bathroom amused. "You girls are definitely Tuckers."

T'Mir was thankful for the solitude and that her mother was not there to criticize her poor judgment, if only to brush her teeth. It seemed from birth most Vulcans were adept in the art of describing one's faults in a clear and concise way, whether you wanted to know them or not. Sometimes, it was good to just muddle in your own weaknesses quietly, alone.

She was also fortunate that her dad didn't give her the look, the one that spoke volumes of shame and disappointment. Although her dad was not as skilled at it the way her father had been, her dad was not really Vulcan, after all, he did have his own brand of fatherly guilt that T'Mir could do nothing but hang her head and avoid eye contact.

The walk to her bedroom from the bathroom was even more difficult than getting up from the toilet. From her little brother's room, she could hear him restlessly move in his bed, his sensitive ears undoubtedly picking up the commotion outside his room. Although it took the last bit of strength in her, she picked up her feet, one foot in front of the other, to avoid the sound of shuffling through the hall. She straightened herself and tried to look as presentable as she could manage, just in case he woke completely and came out of his room. She never wanted her little brother to see her this way.

In her room, her dad sat on the side of her bed waiting for her. After closing her room's door behind her, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled across the floor, then into her bed. Somehow, when she opened her eyes, she had her blanket covering her to her shoulders, and her dad offered her a glass of water and a pill.

"Take this." He handed her the pill, then the glass of water, "And drink this, all of it."

She did as she was told. At this point, there was no fight left in her to argue or even question.

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Her eyes didn't want to open; it felt as though glue bound her lids shut. At first, she could only open one. But the other eye, as stubborn as it was, finally opened as well, and it was then that she noticed her dad sitting on the side of the bed.

"Were you here all night?"

He shook his head as his only response, then held out another glass of water and pill.

She thanked him before swallowing the pill, which caught in her parched throat, and washed it down with the entire glass of water. However, T'Mir realized that he was more silent than usual. Her dad was a talker. How he managed to pass himself off as a Vulcan for so many years was beyond her.

"You can't do this, grease monkey."

"I know," she said dismissively. "Sixteen, no drinking."

"It's not so much the act. It's the reasoning behind it," he said to her softly.

T'Mir struggled to sit up, her back propped on pillows. Something in the words he chose bothered her. They were more Vulcan, but not her mother's flavor of Vulcan. Her mother was more direct than that, to the point. Even her subtlety had an edge of forcing the truth, not gently gliding toward it.

And honestly, she'd never given much thought as to why she enjoyed her nights out, sneaking drinks in places she could get away with it. But the fun was over; she knew her parents, her mother, would make this a very long and boring time for reflection. What did parents want to hear in times like these? How she'd learned the pertinent lessons would work well on her mother. That there was much guilt and remorse for the mistakes made would work well with her dad. That a level of maturity had been attained in the aftermath would placate both.

Just before T'Mir was about to offer one of them, her dad spoke. "Koss would be disappointed."

The words of feigned contrition were lost somewhere in her throat and were replaced with swelling, boiling anger. He had no right to bring her father into the discussion.

"How do you know what Father would think?" she spat out before folding her arms and turning her head away. She could feel her lip beginning to protrude and realized she was acting like a petulant child, but she didn't care. Memories of her father whipped through her mind, of her father's subtly displayed affections rebuffed by her mother, or the tense moments between him and her dad.

Her dad sighed. "Perhaps I didn't know him as well as I should have." His face turned to her. "But perhaps I knew him better than you think."

It was enough to pique her curiosity. Even years ago at the young age of five, T'Mir understood that the relationship of her parents was as complicated as the relationship between humans and Vulcans. When she was young, they explained only the bits of information that her young mind could comprehend but the why and what of her family picture was fuzzy. As she grew older and started asking questions, the picture came into focus somewhat, but there were still blurry spots here and there; she couldn't quite make out the whole image of who they were as a family, where her father fit into it.

"Koss, T'Pol, and I did what he had to do to keep you safe."

T'Mir exasperatedly repeated the word, "safe" as she turned away from him again. It never made sense to her. The relationship between humans and Vulcans had always been a strained one for as long as she could remember. Sure, there have been stories of small xenophobic groups causing trouble here and there, but she couldn't imagine it so bad that two men would agree to mate when they could barely tolerate each other.

Peripherally, she saw something jut out at her, and when she turned to once again face her father, she saw the PADD in his hand. It was small, the type used for older, smaller pictures. And in the screen was the photograph of a baby. T'Mir would have thought it was one of her own baby pictures if not for the cold metal, plastic, and glass surrounding the infant.

Was it a boy? A girl? Who was it? Why was her dad showing her this picture? So many questions raced through her mind, she couldn't think clearly to ask a coherent question.

It wasn't necessary.

"Her name was Elizabeth," he told her.

In over eleven years, her dad had always managed to smile without smiling. He mastered the ability to mimic Vulcan stoicism while his eyes conveyed an ease of life that most Vulcans could not or would not achieve. But at this moment, there was no hidden smile, no easiness that permeated around him.

Elizabeth. Her grandmother had once told her that the name Elizabeth was a common name in the family since the death of her dad's sister, her aunt. An act of war that was nothing more than a huge misunderstanding instigated by opportunistic other-dimensional beings. She'd read about the incident in school. Her cousin, Ellie, was one of those children in their family named after her aunt.

"Was she family?" T'Mir took the PADD and studied the face, the pointed ears. Looking closely, there were some differences between this child and her own baby pictures. They were so subtle T'Mir had to search to find them, but there was definitely a connection between her and this baby.

"She was your sister, cloned by a group of people focused on the isolation of Earth and humans from aliens. They thought that it would further their cause to create an alien-human hybrid."

T'Mir parsed his words. Although the word "cloned" confused her, the use of past tense, the description of the people that seemed important in the infant's story, along with her dad's expression, said it all. The girl was dead and the isolationists had something to do with it. Suddenly, T'Mir remembered the tomb near where her grandmother had been interred, the name "Elizabeth" spelled phonetically in Vulcan.

"How did she die?" T'Mir managed to ask, having to swallow hard since her throat had become completely dry again.

"There were… complications… with the cloning process. She died months old," he told her, then quickly looked away. T'Mir could sense her father's pain, even before she placed her hand on his. She knew her dad didn't think the "complications" were an accident; they breathed life into her lungs only to expect her to die.

Suddenly, the stories of xenophobic groups didn't seem as harmless to her as they did before. The story sunk in slowly, but fully. The picture finally came into perfect focus. Those hateful people had impacted her family on a level she couldn't understand before. Her parents lost their first child to hate, and it was little surprise her mother feared so much for her life.

Her parents entered into their arrangement with one goal: to keep her safe. Her dad and her father had to work very hard to coexist for their common goal. She was so wrong. For so long, she constantly looked for the love between her mother, her father and her dad.

T'Mir wished her mother could have loved her father the way she loved her dad, but she couldn't. They did try to include him, and T'Mir was thankful for that now. The image was in focus, the picture clear. What they did was not for each other, but for her.

In the end, her father gave everything, including his life, to keep her safe.

T'Mir felt the tears well in her eyes and finally roll down her cheeks, hot and unstoppable. The rest followed down the same path in a steady stream. She cried for the little girl in the picture, her sister. She cried for her parents, the sacrifices they made to protect her. She cried for her father. He didn't die so that she could drink until she ended up curled around a toilet late at night.

With little care about acceptable behavior, T'Mir reached for her dad, her arms wrapped around him tightly. He responded by holding her just as tightly.

For the first time in her life, T'Mir allowed herself to cry freely, without restraint or shame.


	5. Adult (pt1)

**Even though a lot of what happens is not explicitly described and therefore, I think, can keep its rating, the implied events may be hard for some, murder of children and adults and torture (of sorts), viewer discretion is advised!**

**Also, for this chapter, in addition to my glorious betas, I'd like to give a shout out to the Writing Workshop over at The Delphic Expanse. Their notes helped me turn an idea of a few paragraphs into a fully fleshed out piece. Thanks!**

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**2174**

Her heart raced as she maintained her calm demeanor, especially around the likes of this man. It was a sparse cell with only a chair, a table, and a bed that was little more than a cot.

Watching his every movement, T'Mir pressed her back to the cell door with her hands behind her back.

"What does a Vulcan want with me?" the man in the cell asked, his sneer was filled with years of hatred, the word, "Vulcan," emphasized with disgust.

T'Mir's head turned slightly, only enough to see the guard outside the door but kept the prisoner within her range of periphery. The guard seemed confused for a moment before walking away from the door, just as she'd planned. The man in front of her grunted, "You're protector just left, little girl… or is it woman? I never could tell with you aliens."

As she returned her full focus to the man, she couldn't help but smile at him. Her plan was proceeding just as she'd planned. Yes, there was some guilt in what she'd done, what she would do, but the ends justified the means.

She'd met the guard at one of her old haunts, a bar that she hadn't visited for a couple of years, with the singular goal of seducing him. And when they were alone, she connected her mind to his, influenced him to arrange her guest status, get her inside the cell, and leave. The guard, Tommy, was unaware that his sudden desire for coffee was not his own.

Inside the cell, the man seemed unnerved by a Vulcan smiling at him, and T'Mir felt a strange and ugly satisfaction from it. But she hadn't come to this place to unnerve him; that was just a bonus. She'd come for a specific purpose, and it was time to do it.

She stepped towards him, and reflexively, he stepped away from her. She lunged at him, and he held his arms out to block her, expecting her intention was to strike him. But it was only a distraction. Her goal was his face. Her hand had to reach for the side of his face.

His head slammed into the wall, but it wasn't enough to hurt him. Stun him, perhaps, but it was no matter as the man was subdued, and her fingers already slid into place.

"Your mind to my mind…" she began as she felt the mental barriers of the man's mind slip away, but his thoughts were pieces scattered about, large and simplistic like a child's puzzle. She quickly worked the pieces into a coherent pattern. "Your thoughts to my thoughts…" she continued as the last piece locked in its place and the pattern was complete; she had unfettered access to his mind and felt his anger and disgust as her own.

T'Mir focused her mind into one single thought, "Paxton, show me my sister, Elizabeth. The human-Vulcan hybrid."

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The hall was metal and stone, most likely the mining colony her parents described. Several humans passed her with a respectful nod or a greeting, and she could hear herself…Paxton…reciprocate appropriately. One corridor led to another until she stopped at a door with a simple sign, "R & D".

Beyond the door, it was not what one would expect of research and development for a mining colony, but what one would expect from a scientific research station. On one side of the large, open room was a line of biobeds, cutting edge technology for its time. On one of the beds lay a human woman, on another, a bound Vulcan woman.

In Paxton's memories, T'Mir searched for the identities of the women. The human was a member of their xenophobic organization, a volunteer for their experiment. The Vulcan was taken from one of the outer Vulcan colonies against her will. They kept her sedated.

Hovering over the Vulcan woman with a scanner of some sort was a human man and woman: a scientist named Dr. Mercer and a medical technician named Khousi. They glanced up from their current subject and noticed her standing there… Paxton standing there.

T'Mir found it increasingly difficult to distinguish Paxton's presence from her own.

"Sir," he greeted Paxton anxiously. "I didn't expect to have a full report ready for you for another three days."

"Just tell me what you've got now, doc," he said to the doctor casually, as though having a conversation with a friend.

"We've learned that gestation seems less problematic in the human than the Vulcan."

Paxton strolled to where the Vulcan woman lay. She was strapped down, her eyes looking wildly around, and Paxton wondered if it was the drugs or actual fear of the predicament. Perhaps both, he thought to himself with a chuckle.

The doctor scurried away for a second to discuss something with his medical technician. The woman's eyes darted in the direction of Paxton, to the Vulcan woman, the human woman and back to Dr. Mercer before she handed him a stack of PADDs.

He then returned to Paxton. "We've gained tremendous insight from the lab results of our last attempt. I'm confident we'll be able to create a binary clone, sir." He handed one of the PADDs to Paxton, then Dr. Mercer tried to organize the others in his hands.

Although Paxton understood some of the science behind it, he couldn't make heads or tails of what was on the screen in front of him. "Just give me the gist," he said as he shoved the PADD back to the doctor, causing the others to spill on the floor.

As Dr. Mercer scrambled to pick them up, he explained, "One of our embryos has made it to the fetal stage. Very promising. I've named it Eve. Earth-Vulcan e—."

T'Mir could feel the disgust well inside as though it were her own, and Paxton roared, "These things do not deserve a name!" causing the doctor and medical technician to jump.

After having just organized the avalanche of PADDs, Dr. Mercer took a step back, his face ashen and the PADDs clutched tightly to his chest. "Yes, sir." Paxton looked around the room and noticed the medical tech, Khouri, was staring, startled.

Paxton never wanted to lose control, especially with his workers and volunteers, but the idea of naming the hybrid abominations as though they were human was not to be tolerated. As a way to diffuse the tension he'd caused, he patted the doctor's back warmly and smiled. The man immediately relaxed, but the woman edged slightly away from him, her eyes focused on some task away from him.

"Request more volunteers, and if the Vulcan woman is problematic, get rid of her," Paxton said in a soft voice where only the doctor could hear.

Dr. Mercer stuttered, "H-how do you want that done, sir?"

There was really no need to tell him. Paxton had every confidence in the doctor's ability to figure it out. It wasn't like they could set her free to alert others of what they were doing. Paxton only stared at the man and allowed him to come to the same conclusion, and he finally did. The doctor nodded quietly, and Paxton walked away and outside of the room.

T'Mir suddenly found herself sitting at a desk, Paxton's desk. In his mind, months had passed, and he was anxiously awaiting the doctor's latest results. The last attempts hadn't gone well. After the few successful births, they did not live long enough to achieve his goal. The latest was the longest to survive, and he had high hopes with it. Paxton ached for the green light to start the next step of his plan.

Dr. Mercer entered the room after waiting to be invited and stood before Paxton's desk. His lips were pressed together tightly, and dark semicircles rounded under his eyes. Paxton's heart sank. "It's a no-go?"

The doctor shook his head. "We've lost her."

Paxton ignored the comment, suppressing the desire to remind his best scientist that it wasn't a she, it was an it. He simply said, "Keep trying," then swiveled in his chair with his back facing the doctor. He didn't care if the doctor stayed or left. Paxton was disheartened that his plans were still halted at this stage.

The office melted and reconfigured into a corridor. Paxton was walking when the doctor and the med-tech Khouri rushed to his side and began to walk in step, the doctor's body almost vibrated with excitement while Khouri walked behind them quietly. "This one has made it to the sixth month mark and is still going strong. All test results indicate that she is perfectly healthy and will probably outlive all of us."

"Very good, doc," Paxton sighed, his mind already moving beyond the moment and well into his plans. "Now the next one—"

"Next one, sir?" the med-tech interrupted, glancing sheepishly at the doctor, then Paxton. "We have the one you need, sir."

"Ah, yes. Khouri, is it?"

The woman nodded.

"Could you give me and the good doctor a moment to discuss the… child's future?" T'Mir felt the bile rise in his throat at the word "child". The medical technician nodded and walked away. Paxton waited until she was out of sight.

"She's grown attached to it, hasn't she?"

Dr. Mercer nodded and had trouble meeting Paxton's eyes. "Yes."

Paxton clasped his hands behind his back and sighed, "That's unfortunate." And shrugging off the thought, he added, "Well, the next one should be stable for at least three months, but no more than six months."

"But, sir, what of this one? She's healthy and—"

Paxton leaned into the doctor's personal space, his face so close T'Mir could feel Dr. Mercer's shallow breaths. "She's not what we need. I'm sure you'll come up with the answer, doctor. You've come up with it before."

The doctor nodded and Paxton leaned back, breathed in deeply with a smile as though he were breathing Earth's fresh air. "Good," he said as he clapped the doctor's shoulder, spun on his heels and left the man in the corridor.

This time, T'Mir was in the lab, again. Instead of several bio-beds, there was now one, large enclosed biobed, and inside was a child, the one she'd seen in the picture. "I'm not sure what happened to the last one, but this one is healthy. I'm sure of it," Khouri said as she read the latest results of her medical tricorder. The doctor warned him that the med-tech had become obsessed with this creature's health since the sudden demise of the last one.

Dr. Mercer glanced at Paxton, guilt not hidden very well on his face. In return, Paxton raised his eyebrows for a moment and the doctor knew what he wanted to know. The doctor's head nodded almost imperceptibly, and Paxton knew this thing wouldn't survive longer than six months. It was time to truly set his plans in motion.

The doctor's face melted away, and was replaced with the face of her mother, slightly younger. She was on the floor, having just been overpowered by a very tall, muscular man named Greaves.

Paxton left the room to enter his office and addressed his daily responsibilities of paperwork, knowing fully that his captive was well cared for. Greaves was an old friend and constant ally, and Paxton was sure that even with her Vulcan strength, she was no match for him.

It took ten minutes before Paxton realized he was reading the same line of text before he leaned back in his chair with a sigh. For some reason, his mind continuously wandered to the creature in the next room. He stood from his desk and quietly walked to the door; his eyes focused on the small woman at the feet of Greaves. She tried to stand, but he shoved her back down until she no longer tried to get up again.

Paxton's eyes noticed her medium brown hair, disheveled and yet took nothing away from the beauty of her large eyes, golden skin, and full lips. Somewhere deep inside, a place he couldn't even admit to himself, he found her extremely attractive. The thought repulsed him, made him feel ill, and he buried it deep in his mind.

_How very Vulcan of you, Paxon_, T'Mir shared the thought between them, _to suppress your desires so efficiently_. T'Mir felt the stirrings of revulsion from the current Paxton, but she was in control of his mind wholly, and she wasn't the least bit interested in his opinions of her.

Two henchmen appeared at the outer door, and one of them pushed a man forward into the room. One of the two men entered, and the other stayed outside as the outer door slid shut. The instant T'Mir saw the face of the man pushed, it felt familiar to her, but it wasn't until Paxton's thoughts came to the fore and shared a name that T'Mir's brain paused for a moment.

Dad?

"Commander Charles Tucker III," Paxton's thoughts flowed into her mind along with the rumors associated with him and the Vulcan woman on the floor, Mother.

He was fully human, and his anger was open for all to see, something she hadn't seen in all of her life.

After a minor skirmish between her dad and Greaves, Paxton entered the outer room of his office. T'Mir heard the words from Paxton: an entire speech on the folly of such a relationship with an alien. But behind the words, T'Mir felt the undercurrent of jealousy mingled into the disgust. The notion of being with an alien woman repulsed him, but what shocked him more was that after seeing her in person, he could almost understand the desire. The conflict and self-loathing amused T'Mir as she experienced him continue his righteous posturing.

Her surrounding shifted once more. They were now moving through corridors, and in his mind, T'Mir learned that they had left the moon and moved to Mars. At this point, Paxton decided that he would show the couple the infant, the lab result.

In the room was a small, plastic bassinette, similar to those found in hospitals, and inside was the baby T'Mir saw in the picture her dad had shown her. She was resting peacefully, and the longer T'Mir looked at her, the more she could not push away from her thoughts the inevitable future she knew for this little girl.

Her mother and dad wanted questions answered while they looked at their infant girl, and Paxton gave them willingly...most of them. In his mind, however, he thought to himself, "Get attached to her all you want, and it will be all that much more painful when…"

That was enough for T'Mir as she slowly disentangled her consciousness from the deranged man's mind. Her stomach turned, tightened, and she felt as though her lunch was suddenly fighting for its freedom. But before she severed the connection completely, she left him with one thought, and then methodically rearranged his memories so that he would not remember her visit.

As she left his cell and locked the door, she heard him moan loudly. By the time she reached the path to the visitor's center where she was allowed before her guard helped her inside, she heard Paxton scream in pain. A shrill sound of agony that would make her feel sorry for anyone else.

T'Mir found her guard standing at the coffee dispenser looking around, confused. "It's time to go back to the visitor's center," she told him, and that triggered the last phase of her plan in his mind. He escorted her out, and the last thing she heard before the heavy door swung into place was the choking sounds of despair. The corners of T'Mir's mouth curled into a smile just as the sounds were cut off by the click of the heavy door.


	6. Adult (pt2)

**2176**

Years ago, her family moved from Vulcan to Earth not only to reunite with her dad, but to further immerse her in humanity. It was, after all, half of who she was.

T'Mir pulled the wooden box from the crate and placed it on the shelf of her old room. It had been so long since the box decorated this room.

Her family made the decision to move back to Vulcan for her brother, believing he had to experience life as a full Vulcan. Although she could have continued her education on Earth, T'Mir decided to leave with her family, for her brother.

A small voice called to her from the door of her room. Char'Les stood there, staring down at his toes and his face flushed green. His face was always flushed green when he was upset. "I don't like it here," he declared. "The other k… children don't play games. All they want to do is practice mental endurance exercises."

On Earth, Char'Les wouldn't play many of the games played by human children. Although raised by one human parent on a planet of humans, the rigid expectations of a Vulcan child were no less. He did enjoy watching them play, however.

T'Mir wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, his back pressed tightly to her. She was fully aware that she was coddling him by Vulcan standards, but he was her brother, she would always coddle him. "I've always had trouble as well," she whispered to him. "With concentration and hard work, it will get easier. Trust me?"

She felt the muscles in his little body relax in her arms, and his head tilted to the side to lean on her arm. "Okay, T…" he said to her then corrected himself, "…T'Mir." He'd called her "T" on Earth for so long, but nicknames on Vulcan were frowned upon. They were considered an unnecessary endearment, even among family, and therefore unacceptable.

"Dad asked me to practice meditation techniques with him. He says he needs the practice."

"It has been quite a while since Dad has had to be fully Vulcan. He does need the practice. Will you help him?"

In her arms, she could see and feel her little brother nodding enthusiastically. Her dad did need to practice, but her little brother required more practice. At least now, Char'Les was charged with a great responsibility; he had something to focus on other than his own discomfort.

**2179**

T'Mir fastened the last clasp of her brother's robes, and brushed the wrinkles from the silken material. With one last swell of pride, T'Mir marveled at how handsome her little brother was.

"You look most presentable, Char'Les."

For a long moment, he didn't say anything. His face was as unreadable as any other Vulcan, but T'Mir could tell that he was nervous. Once he started shifting his weight from one foot to the other, it was confirmed.

"She will accept you, little brother." She hadn't used that endearment for years in her attempt to help him adjust to rigid Vulcan life. Now, she just wanted to comfort him.

"I don't care if she accepts me. I don't want to accept her."

T'Mir felt her eyebrow rise at that. Her father's rebellious tendencies, her dad's enormous sense of right and wrong, and their mother's directness made for a volatile combination in a Vulcan. As she watched his face and posture remain as stolid as he'd been before he uttered the words, she marveled at his ability to express emotion while maintaining an impeccably Vulcan demeanor. A skill he'd acquired from her dad, no doubt.

"Brother, the betrothal is necessary. You will come to learn this."

There was a single, breathy grunt from him before he turned and left his room. T'Mir followed.

In the central room, their visitors were seated and waiting. Both sipped their tea as their daughter sat between them, and she stared at the opposite wall, perhaps beyond the wall. T'Mir remembered having to endure this process, how her mind wandered with the slightest lull in conversation.

The girl was pretty enough with golden skin tinted slightly green and a rich, deep brown color in her eyes. They arranged her hair in the latest fashion of braids, twists, and knots, dotted with precious Vulcan stones.

Char'Les walked to the middle of the room and waited for the girl to rise and walk to his side. T'Mir remembered this moment, as parents appraised the two as a future couple. In her case, she had the High Priest and Priestess, as well as other Vulcan dignitaries, appraising her.

This time, not on the receiving end of the process, she found herself appraising them as well. She couldn't help but image them older, imagine Char'Les and V'Ryn together, married with their first born. Is this what her parents envisioned with her and Zarel?

V'Ryn stood proudly, her chin pushed upward and her back straight. Char'Les, on the other hand, seemed already defeated, the henpecked husband next to her.

There was no possibility that V'Ryn's parents would refused the match. Char'Les could have had six limbs, growl in the dark like a sehlat, and cried on the spot and they would have welcomed him as their future son. As his mother's child, eventually, somewhere down his lineage, his descendant would be in T'Mir's position. The betrothed of the Tlyamnhat.

Unlike her father's parents who'd hoped to reap the prestige and political power of such a union within their lifetime, V'Ryn's parents were focused on elevating the position of their family in the future.

The two parents looked expectantly at T'Mir's mother and dad, their attention divided between them and the two children.

"It is an acceptable match," T'Mir's mother finally said to them. Char'Les sagged even more, and his eyes darted away from them and to T'Mir. There was nothing more than Vulcan impassivity on his face, but his eyes pleaded with her to do something, anything to make this stop.

She couldn't. This was Vulcan tradition, countless centuries of Vulcan tradition. There was no way for her to convey her empathy for his plight, a process she had to endure before he was even born.

**2180**

For a people who believed idle interactions and casual conversations to be frivolous endeavors, it never ceased to surprise T'Mir how many functions they held, especially political functions.

Since hostilities between the Klingons and the Federation had increased over the years, the gatherings increased in tandem. Politicians sought any excuse to make new contacts and pry information from established contacts and acquaintances.

Most times, T'Mir would seek out Char'Les and Sarek and huddle in a corner, whispering about the latest information circulating about dignitaries and families present. This night, Char'Les had been conversing with Captain Mayweather, her parents' old friend. Sarek had worked his way through the crowd, and T'Mir was sure he spoke with each person present, even if only to greet them.

Wandering through the crowd, listening for something interesting to latch onto, something that would allow her to join a conversation, she'd almost given up hope when she heard the discussion between T'Pau and a Vulcan woman dressed in ambassadorial robes.

"There was very little left for me to do other than ignore his outburst and wait for him to regain his composure, similar to handling a young child," the woman said haughtily. T'Pau nodded once in agreement.

"The humans have always had as much control over their emotions as a small child. I have often wondered how they have managed their civilization thus far," the woman added.

"May I ask what prompted such an outburst?" T'Mir inserted herself into the conversation.

"The woman beside T'Pau raised her brow and blinked before answering. "I merely suggested that his region on Earth was not significant to overall Federation political affairs, and therefore, his opinion was of equal significance."

T'Mir had to work very hard to keep her eyes from widening and her ears began to burn. One look at T'Pau reassured her that she was successful, otherwise, the woman would have given her the trademark displeased expression for not reining in her emotions adequately.

"Ambassador T'Nara, this is T'Mir—" T'Pau began the introduction, but the ambassador interrupted and suddenly seemed very interested in T'Mir.

"Fascinating. You are the betrothed of the Tlyamnhat," she said, half question half statement as she bowed her head only slightly, the sign of respect given to one of slightly higher status. Her eyes, however, skimmed T'Mir's entire body from her head down to her toes in a full appraisal. The woman did not seem impressed. "And you've spent the majority of your childhood on Earth?"

T'Mir nodded to confirm her question quickly, then moved on to the original discussion. "Humans believe that all voices should be heard, even if they are quite aware of the reality that that is not the case. Reality can be harsh; it is best to soften it. Besides, humans are quite creative, and that opinion may help in some small way."

"I should lie to appease his ideals?" T'Nara asked, her eyes focused intensely on T'Mir, daring her to champion the act of lying.

"No," T'Mir said without a trace of emotion in her voice. "You should tell a carefully crafted truth for the good of the many, Vulcans and humans."

**2185**

The stack of PADDs were piled higher than eye level, and T'Mir's eyes began to blur after reading so many in one sitting.

Convinced she possessed the aptitude for diplomacy, T'Pau had suggested the position to her parents when she'd turned twenty-five: a file clerk in the bowels of Vulcan High Command.

In truth, this was a highly sought position for those seeking a career in politics. Clerk General of Vulcan High Command had access to every document to pass through the government building. Only the most highly regarded, well connected rising stars of government and politics could acquire such a position as first employment. The problem was that T'Mir had no intention of pursuing a career in diplomacy.

A chime at her door was a welcome distraction from her overwhelming and underwhelming work.

With a quick glance at her video feed from outside her office door, T'Mir pressed a button to unlock it. Security was a priority with so many sensitive documents available.

T'Pau entered the office and stood, waiting for the offer of a seat. T'Mir gestured toward the chair at the opposite side of her desk. After the woman settled in her chair, she appraised her for a moment, she always appraised T'Mir's appearance and countenance for any human signs, then withdrew a PADD from her robe and offered it to T'Mir.

"I am aware that although you have an aptitude for diplomacy, it is not a career you would prefer to pursue."

T'Mir's eyebrow tilted upward as she took the PADD from the woman. "You were aware of my preference when you suggested this position?"

The woman in front of her nodded, and T'Mir felt a twinge of anger kindled from growing resentment. Why would T'Pau arrange a position for her, knowing fully that it wouldn't be appreciated? With so much effort, T'Mir quickly regained command of her emotions.

"As the wife of the next Tlyamnhat, you will be exposed to Vulcan politics. I believed it to be necessary for your exposure to occur before the marriage."

"You believed?"

"Yes. I am intimately aware of the rigors of the Vulcan political climate, and the time required to adjust to it."

At first, the audacity of the woman to decide what was best for her bothered T'Mir more than the job, but as she took a long moment to consider the underlying factors and motives, she was surprised to feel appreciation for what the woman had done.

Her entire life, T'Mir saw T'Pau as a cold, calculating woman of such a rigid standard of behavior, even by Vulcan standards. There was no middle ground with her, you were Vulcan or you were not Vulcan. And for T'Mir, that went against her very being. She could never be fully Vulcan, just as she could never be fully human.

However, in this circumstance, it was almost endearing that the woman thought of her well-being, and had the foresight and desire to prepare her for Vulcan politics.

For a few moments, T'Mir took the time to scan the first page of the PADD. Ambassador T'Nara…their conversation a years ago…

"She requests my assistance?"

T'Pau nodded.

T'Mir used the silence to continue to scan the PADD for more information. The advice she'd given the ambassador proved to work well, and she wanted her staff to learn how to engage with humans more effectively.

"I believe you would prefer this offer to your current position?" Although inflected as a question, T'Mir was well aware that it was not. How did T'Pau know her so well?

**2188**

"No!"

"Char'Les, it is prudent that you give this more thought before you make such a significant decision," T'Mir's mother said as she sat at the dining table, her tea all but forgotten during the heated conversation. Her dad, on the other hand, sat on the sofa with his arms crossed and his calf resting over his other knee in a very casual position. There was the barest hint of a smile on his face, and every so often, he would glance in T'Mir's direction as though expecting her to join in with her own declaration.

"I'm eighteen, an adult according to the laws of Vulcan and Earth. I've been thinking about this for eight years! My betrothal with V'Ryn will be severed, and I'm going to join the shipping fleet. Captain Mayweather says there's a place for me."

"Remember the agreement we'd made for T'Mir. I think Koss would want no less for Char'Les, T'Pol?" her father interjected. "We followed tradition, but allow them to ultimately decide as adults."

For the moment, this seemed to placate her mother. As she lifted her teacup to her lips and her eyes darted from one face to another in the room, T'Mir was sure the argument hadn't ended, only delayed until her mother's Vulcan mind could determine a better direction for their conversation, something to lead in her favor.

T'Mir's dad glanced in her direction, skeptical of her mother's silence as well, and they waited just as quietly.

The Federation-sanctioned shipping fleet, with its travel beyond the borders of Federation space, was a refuge for Vulcans looking to escape the strict tenets of Vulcan behavior outlined by Surak. Char'Les was ready to shed such a life like a reptile freeing itself from a restrictive old skin.

In the era of her birth, he would have been labeled V'tosh ka'tur, a description often used derogatorily. Over the years since, the use of the description declined significantly with so many Vulcan colonists reintegrating into the main population. Occasionally, Vulcan elders, the staunchest traditionalists, would utter it in private conversation.

T'Mir wondered if he could truly be happy in such a life? There was a reason why so many Vulcans embraced logic, buried their emotions so deeply that only the most primal of their nature could access them.

Char'Les took the silence as the end of the argument and turned to leave the central room when their mother spoke again. "I will miss you."

The words were soft, as delicate as a whisper and could have been easily muffled with the barest of noises. Was this guilt? Their mother never used maternal guilt as a weapon in her parental arsenal. When her dad stood from the sofa and crossed the room, when his hands held her shoulders firmly and she placed her hand on one of his, T'Mir knew this was no tactic.

At first, Char'Les froze at their mother's words, anger very visible on his face, but then he witnessed her dad's actions, and he looked at T'Mir for confirmation. Too shocked to regain her control over her facial expression, it was enough proof for Char'Les that this did not require a defensive position. This was one of those rare moments when those hidden emotions in their mother bubbled to the surface, unguarded.

In moments, Char'Les knelt beside his mother, his arms wrapped around her tightly, and she didn't pull away from him. Instead, she allowed him to hug her.

**2196**

T'Mir sipped her tea as the slight breeze cooled her skin under the two Vulcan suns at their apex. Summer on Vulcan was never as comfortable for her as it was for full Vulcans.

It was her lunch in the courtyard of the University in upper Shi'Kahr, and almost all seats and benches were claimed.

Unlike Earth, where the everyday chatter would drown out all other sounds, only the sound of the wind or the shuffling of feet on the stones could be heard. Chatter, if that was what you could call Vulcan conversations, was nothing more than a light buzz in the background.

Suddenly, a shadow stretched to engulf her in full shade. When she looked up, the bright light haloed a man's silhouette, his body obscured by the deep shade in contrast. His hands reached for the other chair at her table, one of the few chairs left available. "May I?" was all he asked.

With a curt nod, T'Mir gave her permission for him to take the chair and returned to her tea.

Through her periphery, she noticed that he didn't move the chair away, but he gracefully sat in it at her table with her. This was a severe breach in Vulcan etiquette. Even with so many in one place, it was impolite to sit with a stranger. At the very least, he could have moved the chair a foot away from the table as nothing more than an obligatory gesture.

When her head lifted, her attention fully on the man, she almost dropped her teacup. A face she hadn't seen in over ten years sat before her. All of the softness of childhood lost, many of his father's features were more apparent now.

There was a burning desire to give him a big hug, but that was acceptable on another planet, or behind closed doors.

On Vulcan, T'Mir had to accept the surprise as she would everything else, with a measured response and cool demeanor, even if it was a close family friend.

"Sarek. It has been some time since our last encounter," she said before holding up her cup to her lips, her eyes focused on his. Although she could not smile, she could at least convey her joy through her eyes.

"Indeed. It was not my intention to startle you. I have returned to Vulcan for a limited duration, and with the timing of the day, it seemed logical to meet with an old acquaintance," he said as he sat back in his chair casually, for a Vulcan.

She felt her eyebrow raise as an immediate reaction to his slightly informal posture, and his response was an equally judgmental rise of his eyebrow. It was an amusing situation, and T'Mir had to work very hard to suppress a chuckle.

"Earth is quite a fascinating planet," he said.

"I would imagine for someone open to other worlds and cultures, it would be," she replied with a slight tilt of her head and the determination to keep her lips as straight and impassive as her concentration would allow.

"Your thesis on the symbiotic relationship of humans and Vulcans has ignited vigorous discussions here and on Earth."

T'Mir continued to sip her tea quietly at first, but then gently placed it on the table before responding. "It is not a new concept. Humans and Vulcans need each other to thrive. Without the other, the cultures would stagnate, or worse, implode. Humans burn with hot passion and Vulcans stand rigid with cold logic, but there is a balance. Something in between… there is…"

Throughout her entire life, she'd had a sense of it but could never articulate what that balance was. It was something that she believed should have been obvious, there in plain sight, but what it was, she couldn't figure out that specific thread between the two species. Sarek, however, answered her when it had become apparent that she wouldn't, that she couldn't.

"…you."

There was no doubt in her mind that her face and ears flushed a deep green when she felt her cheeks and the tips of her ears suddenly burn. Sarek's gaze darted away from her, mercifully allowing her time to regain her composure.

Although his comment was unexpected, and very flattering, T'Mir realized that he was correct. Only someone willing to open themselves fully to both worlds could bring them together. As stubborn as both species were, the only individuals with any incentive to embrace both cultures fully would more than likely be the children born to both.


	7. Adult (pt3)

**Dec 30, 2209**

The second sun finally rose to its full height and T'Mir sat on the bench of her family's garden as she rolled a stone in her hand, feeling its rough texture; its warmth absorbed her body heat. She'd found it in her room in a box long forgotten, a remnant of her past long ago when she would take walks with her father.

"Hey, grease monkey," a voice called to her from the entrance of the house. At almost eighty-eight years, he was quite the human specimen. As a Vulcan, however, he was prematurely aging. Fortunately, many Vulcans dismissed it as the effects of a poor quality of life one would suffer, raised young in the outer colonies.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said to her as he sat down next to her. She often wondered what exactly was a penny. Regardless, she understood what he meant.

T'Mir couldn't say aloud what was in her mind and heart. She continued to roll the stone in her hand and tried to focus.

As usual, her dad knew already.

"Koss would have wanted to be here more than anything."

"Did you or mother ever love him?" The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she wondered where her carefully acquired control had gone. Her control was lagging these last days, and she wondered if her human side was getting the better of her under the circumstances.

Even so, the question didn't seem to bother her dad. In fact, it seemed like a natural topic for him.

"You know, your mother and I tried very hard to include him. And in our way, we did love him. Even now, we feel the loss and our family just doesn't feel complete. But I'll tell you this, grease monkey, I see him in you every day."

T'Mir leaned into her dad and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Hey, T! Did I miss the funeral… I mean wedding?" The question came from a very jovial voice at the entrance of the garden.

There was a Vulcan man with disheveled, very dark brown hair and a sack slung over his shoulder. If she didn't have years of video calls to accept it, the image of her father with a slightly more oval-shaped face and the warm, open smile of her dad would have been disconcerting. But this was her brother, a full-blooded Vulcan who shunned Surak's teachings… much to their mother's chagrin.

At the sight of him, she couldn't help herself. T'Mir smiled back. "Little brother!" She hopped off of the bench and ran to him, and he picked her up in his arms and swung her around just as she used to do with him when they were much younger. It didn't matter that the behavior was unseemly for Vulcans, T'Mir hadn't had her little brother, not so little for quite a while now, so close to her in almost twelve years.

He set her on the ground, and they laughed openly. She tousled his already mussed hair, and he made fun of her thick, ornate Vulcan robes. She felt as though they were children again.

Her dad approached, seeming to have kept his distance to give them time for their little reunion. Char'Les wasted no time and gave the only father he could remember a hug. If not for the setting and their ears, T'Mir would have sworn these were two humans, as comfortable as Char'Les was with affection. Then her dad went inside the house to retrieve their mother.

"So I can't wait to meet the soon to be Mr. T," Char'Les said as he turned to his sister.

She shook her head as she returned to the bench, waiting for her brother to join her. Her mind wandered again to marriage, to her parents, to the life she and her brother had.

"Why did you agree to this anyway? To hell with traditions and expectations!"

"Yes." T'Mir couldn't help but smile at the memory of an eighteen year old Char'Les standing in front of Dad and Mother, defiant and determined. "I remember when you officially rejected your betrothal."

"And I'll tell you what, it was the best decision I ever made!"

"What of pon-farr?" she asked in a whisper. The word was not forbidden, but it was taboo and ingrained in her upbringing to never speak of it casually.

"Pon-farr, smon-farr!" Char'Les waved it off. He, however, was not influenced by his rigid, Vulcan upbringing early in life, or later in life for that matter. "If I want to have sex, I'll find a willing partner and have sex."

It was then that both noticed their mother standing in the entrance of the house, wiping her hands on a towel.

Char'Les bowed his head to hide his lips and whispered to T'Mir, "I'm going to give her a nice, big hug. Think she'll like that?"

"As always, brother," T'Mir answered, trying desperately to conceal her amusement. Char'Les didn't need any more encouragement. He already reveled in his emotions.

_._._._._._._._._._

The procession snaked the long peak of the mountain. T'Mir followed the High Priestess of Mount Seleya, while her parents, brother, cousin, and various dignitaries and statesmen from Vulcan and other planets trailed them.

Both suns were up, and T'Mir felt the full heat as she climbed the steps etched into the stone. She was not fully Vulcan, and the heat and thin atmosphere was only slightly bearable with the strong breezes whipping through the mountains.

Although she couldn't look back, her dad's health was at the fore of her mind. He was fully human and an elder in the human lifespan. She pictured him struggling to make his way up the mountain as well, and hoped his health would not fail him.

Once they'd reached the summit, the carved entrances of the Grand Temple sprawled before them in arches and spires that only added to the magnificence of the sacred mountain. The High Priest did not greet the High Priestess at the summit ceremonially as T'Mir had been informed to expect. Rather, he stood at the main entrance, the largest spire of hand-carved stone. The High Priestess turned to T'Mir and quietly whispered one command to her and the guards around her. "Remain."

The woman spun around, her gown billowed in the heavy winds of the mountain, and walked to the High Priest. They spoke privately for what seemed like eternity.

The High Priestess glanced back and both looked at T'Mir for a moment before returning to their conversation. Then they announced loudly that the procession would be given time to rest before the ceremony. This was unusual. The wedding always began immediately after the wedding procession arrived.

T'Mir was ushered into a room to wait while her family and others were taken to the ceremonial arena.

T'Mir sat on the edge of a bench and rolled the stone in her hand. She was even more grateful to have found it earlier; it made her feel as though her father were with her.

When someone opened the door, T'Mir assumed it was her brother, eager to buck etiquette yet again. But when the door opened fully, a familiar face did appear, but not a member of her family.

"Zarel?"

Although she hadn't seen him since the day of their betrothal, his face was etched in her memory, and the initial, low-level bond established on that day tingled in the background of her thoughts. There was no doubt of his identity.

He nodded and stepped forward. The door quietly closed behind him, and T'Mir wondered if there was a servant or guard standing outside the room.

"Why are you here? We have no reason to see each other before the ceremony."

"I believe it is important that we speak," he said as he sat next to her on the bench. It was enough distance to respect her personal space, by Vulcan standards.

"Do you approve of this marriage?" he asked. T'Mir hadn't expected the question, and the bluntness surprised her even more.

"Does it matter?"

"It does." He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. It was then that T'Mir noticed the bead of sweat over his brow. The room was cool, sheltered from the burning heat of Vulcan's two suns, but they were both sweating. She'd assumed it was her human side, but perhaps not. "I don't think we have a choice."

"There is always a choice. I have made it for myself, and now it is your turn to choose."

It only now occurred to her why he was asking. Did he not want her? Did he want to be released from their arrangement and hoped that she would agree to it? "If you don't want this, then I will not force you. However, I believe you will need… assistance of some sort," she finally answered, her eyes focusing on a bead of sweat trailing down his temple.

"I believe you misunderstand," he quickly wiped the sweat that she'd noticed. "I've decided that this is a good match, but I prefer we enter into this with mutual acceptance."

T'Mir was startled to feel relief that he accepted their union fully and also realized that she'd mentally prepared for this since that day she'd met him in this very temple years ago. But she hesitated, unsure of what he might think if he ever found out what she really was.

"I've been watching you since the day you were born," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "I know everything about you."

"Everything?" she asked, skeptical that he even realized just how complex that statement was.

"Yes. I know you are half human," he said in almost a whisper.

T'Mir breath caught in her throat and she coughed. "And you don't believe that I'm unfit to marry you?"

"Quite the contrary. Between passion and logic, there is a balance."

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she remembered the conversation she'd had with Sarek. For an instant, she wondered if he'd heard that conversation somehow.

"The humans are taking a prominent role in our future, as it should be. Your third maternal fore-mother, T'Mir, was correct in that we need humans for our long-term survival, but they need us as well. There must be a balance, and I think this can only be achieved through people such as you."

As the intensity of his gaze caused T'Mir's eyes to look away, her skin flared to a prickling burn, her insides warmed at the reality of his absolute acceptance of her human half.

He searched her face, perhaps looking for a clue to her reaction.

"I accept this union," she answered softly.

There was an audible sigh from him. Before she could react, he entered her personal space, an act that Vulcans were loath to do. And his head dipped down, she felt his lips against hers, and T'Mir closed her eyes. It was electric, and she sensed his feelings, flutters of thoughts. He found her to be unusual, different from other Vulcans, and he wanted to cultivate that within her, not suppress it as other Vulcans would. In that instant, she found him fascinating and wanted more of him.

When she opened her eyes, Zarel was already out of the room, the door just closing behind him.

Her finger retraced where his lips had been, the feeling of them still lingering. T'Mir's skin continued to burn, and her heart raced, her mind a fogged jumble of thoughts. So this was pon farr.

_._._._._._._._._._

The priest spoke in the Ancient Vulcan dialect while T'Mir held her two fingers to Zarel's. She could see sweat beading his brow even more, and soon realized that she was sweating also when a drop rolled down her cheek.

Names were being called out by the High Priestess and they were nothing more than background noise as all of her senses were focused on Zarel, until she heard her name. "T'Mir."

Not her name, but it was the ancestor for whom she was named. T'Mir, the first Vulcan on Earth, the first Vulcan to advocate the relationship between Earth and Vulcan. The priestess called out the ancestors T'Mir and Zarel had in common, and where their ancestry split was the original T'Mir and her brother, Zarel's third forefather. At this time, the High Priest listed the names of Zarel's ancestors in chorus with the priestess whom listed T'Mir's.

She was told during her preparation for the wedding that this was the public confirmation of the familial connection as well as the separation by at least three generations.

When her eyes met with Zarel's, she could barely breathe and her heart thrummed in her ears louder than the priest's and priestess's voices. Her heart beat was no longer steady but an erratic mess and both of their breaths were loud and raspy. If the surrounding audience could not hear them, she was sure the priest and priestess could.

When the priest began to chant faster, it was confirmed. He rushed through the words as though he were racing to a finish line. It was then that she realized he was racing to a finish line, hers and Zarel's. Vulcan discipline could only endure for so long when two people were in the throes of moderately late stage pon farr.

With his last word, the priest signaled the priestess to ring the bell and that was the end of the ceremony, and T'Mir's self-control. In her eyes, Zarel was like water after wandering in the Forge for weeks. She rushed to his arms with little care of what those around them might think.

He didn't push her away with an expectation that she exhibit more self-control. He didn't give her the disapproving look she'd seen on so many Vulcan faces. He opened his arms to her and engulfed her in his robes. His lips gently kissed her, and whispered her name in her ear.

The Vulcans surrounding them turned away quickly and began to funnel into the banquet hall, ushering off-worlders to do the same.

Zarel took T'Mir's hand and led her away. She didn't know where, but under the heat of the two suns and the boiling blood of pon-farr, T'Mir didn't care so long as they could be together.

_._._._._._._._._._

**One more chapter to go for the half-way point!**


	8. Adult (pt4)

_._._._._._._._._._

The small flames of the few remaining candles flickered, and their glow reflected off of the textured stone walls of the room. T'Mir breathed deeply as she lay on her side facing Zarel… her husband.

"I would rather not allow pon-farr to progress that far again. It was…" he said as he gently reached out to touch her shoulder; it throbbed with what she knew would become dark bruises. He seemed to reconsider and withdrew his hand, "…unfortunate."

"Yes," she agreed, reaching for the darkened knot on his jaw that looked more like a deep shadow in the low light. "Unfortunate."

Their first union was not the romantic moment she'd envisioned. He did not sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bed gently; her heart did not flutter as he stared at her longingly, lovingly.

Instead, by the time they'd reached the room, Zarel was near violent. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and she struggled to free herself. When she did, she did not hesitate to punch him directly in the jaw before he could do it again. It seemed to sober him enough to think beyond his basic biological needs, barely.

As he controlled his emotions slightly more, other things could not be controlled so easily. Their first union ended almost in moments. Their second was slightly longer, just as fiery, but not violent. Their third union was gentle and measured, taking the time to appreciate each other.

Zarel settled deeper into the bedding and turned again to face her, his fingers brushing lightly over her cheek, his eyes trying to conceal his emotions. Perhaps without the influence of pon farr, he might have succeeded, but T'Mir could see the regret. As he touched her, she felt it as well. He was angry, angry at himself for causing the bruises, for things she couldn't quite understand.

T'Mir brought her index and middle fingers together and held them to meet the two he brushed against her face. His emotions were fully exposed to her, and she let them flood her mind.

"Why did you wait so long?"

"I've experienced pon farr before. The previous instances were reconciled through…" He hesitated; his eyes looked away before continuing. "…other means."

"Other means? But why?" T'Mir propped her head up with her arm.

"Your work has helped our people more effectively communicate with humans as well as other species. Your work is very important for our people, and it is very important to you."

T'Mir felt a new swell of respect and gratitude for the man that was now her husband.

She was aware that he could not leave the watchful eyes of his guards; he was not allowed to leave the planet or enter any location not thoroughly inspected for his safety, until he produced his first child. He'd prolonged his confinement for her to flourish in her career.

"So why now?"

"The High Priest refused to allow me to seek other means to resolve..." He let the thought linger for a long moment before continuing, "He and the High Priestess agreed that it was time to have my first born. They contacted you, barred me from all communications. I did insist, however, that I be allowed to speak with you privately before the ceremony."

"What would you have done if I had said no?" T'Mir was extremely curious now.

"That would have been a situation the High Priest and I would have had to resolve."

She didn't need his touch to feel how final his words were. Would he have waited long enough to truly risk his life? T'Mir was thankful it didn't come to that.

_._._._._._._._._._

Zarel and T'Mir stood together by the entrance of the Temple Hall and greeted their guests. This marked the first of her duties as Zarel's mate and her high station in Vulcan society.

The first to enter were the High Priest and Priestess. As T'Mir was instructed, she cupped her husband's hand that was held out to their guests. In it was an IDIC, one said to have originally belonged to Surak himself. This was why Zarel was so important to them. Why they kept the bloodline so tightly connected. Zarel was the first born of a long line of first born spanning all the way to the oldest son of Surak himself.

Her child would have the same fate, and T'Mir wondered if even now she carried the child that would be born to this life.

With the tips of his pointer and forefinger, the High Priest touched the stone set in the middle of a circle above a triangle on the pendant, then touched his forehead. "May his line live long and prosper," he said before walking into the expansive reception hall. The High Priestess did the same and followed.

"Daughter," her mother said as her parents approached them. Her mother stood closely by her dad's side in case he required her assistance. At almost eighty-eight years old, the heat and atmosphere of the Vulcan mountains had taken their toll on him.

T'Mir's mother touched the stone with her two fingertips and before she withdrew her hand to touch her forehead, her fingers grazed T'Mir's fingers. T'Mir felt her mother's emotions; she knew it was no accident. Her mother wanted her to know that she was concerned for her daughter. T'Mir hoped that her mother received the peace she felt to ease her mother's concerns.

"May his line live long and prosper," she said in the same ancient Vulcan dialect as was used by the High Priest and Priestess, the ceremonial dialect from the southeastern region of the Na'nam continent.

Her dad stood in front of them for a long moment, his eyes focused harshly at Zarel, then quickly moved on to her shoulders, lingering there for quite some time. The moments that passed and the awkwardness of the situation increased equally. Even a subtle cough from her mother would not move him.

T'Mir's eyes looked down, and she realized that the bruises on her shoulders were exposed under the wispy indoor robes she wore for this occasion. T'Mir cleared her throat, drawing her dad's attention to her. With her free hand, she brushed her jaw with the back of her fingers and glanced in Zarel's direction. Her dad's eyes refocused on her husband, particularly the very dark, very bulging bruise along his jaw.

Finally, her dad stood straighter, the corners of his mouth curled into the slightest of smiles for only a moment; it could have easily passed as nothing more than the clench of facial muscles. She could almost hear him saying, "That's my girl." He touched the stone and then touched his forehead.

"May her line live long and prosper," he said to them in Standard Vulcan. The difference between the pronouns "his" and "her" was two very similar vowels, and T'Mir wondered if the slip was intentional. With his hands clasped behind his back and his chest swelled forward, he and her mother walked away from them and into the hall.

"T." The booming voice of Char'Les greeted them, startling everyone around him, except T'Mir. Until now, all words were spoken softly and the loudest sound was the wind whistling through the crevices of rocks, boulders, and shifting sand.

While studying Zarel, her brother touched the stone. "Hmm, that looks like it hurts, brother-in-law," he whispered in English before touching his forehead with his fingertips. "May his line live long and prosper," he said in flawless ceremonial ancient Vulcan before walking away from them. Before he was too far away, T'Mir heard him say softly in English, "and teach him who's boss, T."

"Your family is unusual," Zarel whispered to her before their next set of guests approached them.

Their hands still touching, she felt no malice; it was merely an observation, and she even sensed a hidden layer of amusement.

When T'Pau and her husband approached them, T'Mir felt as though her stance had to be more rigid, her face more impassive. T'Pau would expect no less from the wife of the the Tlyamnhat and possible grandmother of her descendant.

As expected, the woman's gaze began from the top of T'Mir's head and traveled down to her toes. Without a word other than what was required by ceremony, T'Pau and her husband walked into the hall.

Next up the steps was Sarek, closely followed by a young woman of his age, undoubtedly his betrothed.

He stepped closer and touched his two fingers to the stone. "May his line live long," he said when a breath caught in his throat before continuing, "and prosper." A tingle reverberated from between her shoulders and down her spine under his unyielding gaze. Sarek had always been a very focused child, and he inherited his mother's unnerving stare.

The only thing to distract him was the woman behind him when she stepped forward and touched the stone with her two fingers. Her voice was just as T'Mir had expected from a woman with her head bowed low and her eyes downcast. She uttered the ceremonial phrase with a wisp of sound, touched her forehead, and was then ushered into the hall by Sarek.

After them, faces came and went, some she recognized as prominent dignitaries of Vulcan and from other planets of the Federation, most she did not recognize at all. Her Uncle Jon was among them. Older, and far less accustomed to the Vulcan atmosphere and heat, he struggled on his cane to greet her standing up, much to the chagrin of his medical attendant pushing a hover-chair behind him.

Toward the end of the procession, her cousin approached. Although she did not have the official honored title of family, T'Mir felt relief and joy that she'd come.

"Um… may her lava live longer," she said awkwardly in Modern Vulcan as she quickly touched the pendant, then her forehead with her fingers. T'Mir felt Zarel's confusion and tried to focus her mind into a thought that could be carried through their physical contact. For so many years of her cousin's fascination with Vulcan culture, she was far from comfortable with the Vulcan language. There were times when she asked for T'Mir's help only to give up in frustration. The fact that Ellie could pronounce a semi-coherent Vulcan sentence at all was a wonder.

She wanted to hug her cousin, one of the few people she allowed such outward affection behind closed doors, and T'Mir could see in Ellie's eyes that she struggled to refrain from doing the same. But this occasion was too official, and they both maintained their distance. Ellie did, however, step forward and whispered in her ear, "He's quite handsome, T. I hope he's a good kisser, too."

Zarel's hand faltered and was fortunately supported by T'Mir's hand. Ellie had obviously forgotten the keen hearing of full Vulcans, or did she? T'Mir desperately fought against the upward tilt of the corners of her mouth.

By the time they were finished, T'Mir's legs were stiff, and her feet and shoulders hurt. Fortunately, this was the extent of their responsibility during the reception. It was a time for everyone to talk and eat, and for her and Zarel to rest and socialize with their guests.

Ellie sat with her for a short time before Char'Les whisked her away to show her how to effectively converse with Vulcans. It was entertaining to watch them mingle among Vulcans and a scattering of other species. The Andorian blue and Tellerite smell stood out among her senses, heightened by the changes in her life.

Zarel was not far from her, speaking with two Orion dignitaries. As the Tlyamnhat without a first born, Zarel could not leave the planet, and to his chagrin, his opportunity to meet off-worlders was greatly reduced. For his entire life, his exposure to different people was limited to visiting off-worlders and Vulcan politicians on Vulcan during carefully planned, extremely secure settings. This was the first circumstance that allowed him exposure to so many off-worlders at once, and he reveled in it… with the proper Vulcan countenance. Even so, he was never too far from her.

Emotions roiled through her as she looked at him. Pon farr was still causing her physical need for him, although far more manageable. She did not love him. She wasn't even sure if she liked him, but she trusted him, and T'Mir decided that was enough for now.

_._._._._._._._._._

**T'Mir's all grow'd up and married now. ;)**

**So this is the halfway point and all I have available to post at the moment. I strongly recommend that if you want a happy (ish) ending, this is where you should stop.**


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